Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Turkey and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spoonie Gee,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mantronix,
Magazine,
Wasted Youth,
Inner City,
Unwound,
Bill Wells,
Zapp,
Aaron Thompson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
MC5,
Wally Richardson,
Desert Stars,
Ultra Naté,
Minutemen,
Rekid,
Kayak,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Zeros,
Blancmange,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Wake,
Hashim,
Johnny Osbourne,
Grandmaster Flash,
Clear Light,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Pop Group,
Visage,
Deepchord,
Y Pants,
Index,
The Gladiators,
Pere Ubu,
the Germs,
This Heat,
Arcadia,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Josef K,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jerry's Kids,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Fuzztones,
Erasure,
World's Most,
Liliput,
Al Stewart,
MDC,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
F. McDonald,
The Residents,
Brick,
Chrome,
The Mummies,
The Standells,
The Leaves,
Pole,
Gang Green,
Carl Craig,
Wolf Eyes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Negative Approach,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.